You'll always be the one (who cares the most)
by LaserFocus
Summary: He just wanted to go home and sleep for a day or two but now here he is, warming up chicken soup and cleaning up tissues.


**A/N:** I got sent a prompt that said; 'Clay finding sick!Emma and taking care of her' and this popped up in my head instantly so… yeah, here's a short Clay/Emma oneshot because I fell head over heels for that paring after that teeny tiny scene in Dirt Dirt Gucci. (Uncle Clay my ass! But that's another fic I have in the works…) This fic takes place… sometime between the Mexico op and the Philippines? IDK, I can't really fit it into the shows timeline. What I do know is that Clay is over Stella, Emma hasn't left for NY and Jason hasn't sold the house.

* * *

All Clay Spenser wanted was to head home to his empty apartment, lay down on his bed and not move for about the next…12 hours or so. He had spent the last day and a half on base together with Trent and Brock, as well as Mandy, Davis and Blackburn, keeping an eye on the op in Morocco that only Jason, Ray and Sonny had been selected to go on. They had been testing things out, working on different solutions and trying not to freak out when all communications was down for 50 minutes. So yeah, all Clay wanted was to go home and sleep. However, before he could do that he had promised Jace that he would stop by the house and check in with Emma and Mikey. They had been home alone for longer times before but with Naima out of town right now, they had been alone-alone for the past 4 days and while Emma was an adult and could handle the situation just fine, she was Mikey's sister, not his mother.

Parking his car next to the red Buick that once belonged to Alana, and now belonged to Emma, he frowned at the closed blinds on every window that lead to the living area. Not once had he seen them all closed, especially not in the middle of the day.

He got out of the car and walk up to the door and was surprised to find it unlocked. When Jason was home the door was almost never locked but when he was out of the country? Emma locked the door as soon as she was on the other side of it. Inside or out.

Pushing it open he stepped inside and closed the door behind him again. "Emma? Mikey?" he called out, but no one answered.

He surveyed the living area and found that someone obviously had been camped out on the couch if the rumpled pillows and messed up blankets was anything to go by. He also saw that there were used tissues, empty throat lozenge wrappers and a water bottle on the living room table.

'Ok, so one of them isn't feeling all that well. That explains the blinds.' Clay thought before moving on to the kitchen. Finding it empty he called out again; "Emma? Mikey? Where are you guys?"

Again he got no answer, so Clay walked over to the stairs that led to the upper floor, where both Emma and Mikey's rooms where located. Taking the steps two-at-a-time, he reached the landing and saw that Mikey's bedroom door was open while Emma's was closed. A quick peek into the boy's room confirmed his suspicion that it was indeed empty so he turned around and walked over to the closed door of Emma's room.

'Emma? Are you in there, Birdie?" Clay called out while softly knocking on her door. He's answer came in the form of hacking cough that lasted for a good 20 seconds. Knowing that the younger woman was indeed on the other side of the closed door, Clay opened it and stepped into the darkened room.

* * *

Emma Hayes was miserable. She had woken up in a cold sweat last night and since then she had been feeling like she was either gonna freeze to death or die from heatstroke, all while coughing her lungs up trough her very sore throat. Oh, and her head was doing a fine job of making her wish she could cut it off and still survive.

She had wanted nothing more than to have her mom take care of her, or even her dad, but her mom was dead and her dad was in some god forsaken county that couldn't get their shit together, doing god knows what, so she had no choice but to get up, make sure her little brother had gotten his breakfast and made his way to school. When that was taken care off she had collapsed on the couch for a couple of hours before she finally made it up the stairs and into her bed again.

A soft knock on her bedroom door woke her up from her state of near slumber and then she started coughing. It felt like it would never stop and for a moment she couldn't breathe. As the coughing died down, Emma fell back on her pillow and watched as the bedroom door opened and a tall, broad male figure appeared in the doorway, lit by the light coming in from the hall behind him.

"Clay?" she croaked out.

"Yeah Birdie, it's me." He answered while moving closer to her on the bed.

Sitting down next to her on the bed, Clay put his hand on the miserable looking blonds' forehead and discovered that she was both warm and clammy.

'Definitely sick.' He thought, stroking her damp hair back from her face.

"How long have you been ill Em?"

"Last night. Woke up all icky in the middle of the night." She answered with a small voice, her sore throat making itself noticeable.

The desire to hold her close rushed over him and before he could thing better of it he had sat her up gently and slid himself in behind her on the bed, making her rest her upper body against his. He slipped one hand around her waist and the other started to comb her hair into submission.

Emma didn't react to being manhandled and simply relaxed into her new "pillow". It felt good to be held. Her dad wasn't the "holding" kind of dad. He hugged them a lot, but never for long. She had missed being held, it was something her mom used to do frequently and Emma had always been extra touchy-feely when sick.

"Where's Mikey?" Clay finally asked, still running his hand through her hair.

"Sleepover at Robert's." she mumbled, half asleep from the soothing motion.

"Robert? That's Porter's son right?"

"Mhm… talked to Cathy earlier and she said I should ask her mom about it. Cindy said Mikey could stay with them until either I was feeling better or dad came home."

Feeling satisfied with that answer Clay moved on to the more important question, the one that had bugged him since he had found the supplies on the living room table.

"Why didn't you call me birdie? Or Davis, Trent or Brock? You know one of us would've been over here in a heartbeat."

"Couldn't. No cell phones allowed in op center or briefing room, 'member?"

Knowing she was right on that he nodded his head in acquiescence, even though she couldn't see him do it.

Before the conversation could continue Emma flew up from her resting position and coughed violently. Knowing there was nothing he could do to help her, Clay just waited for it to end.

As the coughing once more died down, Emma fell back against the firm chest behind her and she couldn't help but smile as she felt the arms connected to that chest wrap around her again. If she was going to be sick, there were worse ways to spend that time than being held by a hot man.

Realizing what she just had been thinking Emma blushed, but with her already flushed face she was certain that it wasn't noticeable to anyone other than her, especially not the other occupant of her bed.

"You ok?" Clay asked, concern lacing his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"You are not _fine_ Em."

"Well duh. But it's just the flu, it's not life threatening. I will feel better in another day or so."

"Mhm…" Clay didn't sound impressed by that answer but he accepted it none the less. "Have you eaten anything?"

"No. I didn't want anything before and then later I didn't have enough energy to make myself go down stairs again and also have to cook."

"Well, that settles it then. While you go and take a shower – don't argue, you'll feel better afterwards – I'm gonna go down and see what I can find in the kitchen. Come down when you're ready."

Emma looked over her shoulder at him. "You can cook?!"

"Yes I can, don't look so shocked." He answered, giving her a small shove.

Rolling her eyes Emma moved out of Clays embrace and got out of her bed, instantly feeling worse than she had while lying down.

"Ugh, I hate being sick."

"I know sweets, but a shower will make you feel less icky so do that and I'll meet you in the living room."

Nodding her head lightly Emma moved over to her dresser, collected some clothes to wear after her shower and then locked herself into her bathroom. Clay watched her disappear behind the bathroom door and then made himself get up from the bed. Time for kitchen duty.

* * *

While Emma was in the shower Clay made himself busy downstairs. First he checked the pantry and after finding a can of chicken soup, he poured it into a saucepan and set it down next to the stove. He then went to the living room and opened the blinds up to let some light into the darkened room, before making quick work of fixing up the couch's pillows and blankets. After discarding the tissues and wrappers from before, he returned to the stove and turned it on to start heating up the soup.

Just as he was pouring the soup into a bowl he heard footsteps coming down the stairs and then Emma came into view as she stood in the opening between the kitchen and living room.

"Heating up soup is not cooking, you know that right?" she asked him, her voice sounding rough but clear and filled with mirth.

"Ha-ha smarty pants. Behave or I'll just eat this thing myself. Now, do you feel better?"

"I do. The shower helped, as you said it would. I feel less gross and stuffy."

"Good, you look like you feel better too." He said and then he gestured to chairs by the kitchen island. "Do you want to sit in here or on the couch?"

She looked at the chairs for a moment and then back at the couch. "Couch." she answered and then she turned on her heel, moving towards the couch and out of his sight.

Taking the bowl of chicken soup with him Clay followed Emma into the living room and sat the bowl down in front of her on the table, before sitting down next to her and grabbing the remote.

"You eat and I'll find us something to watch."

Not feeling like arguing over what was going to be on the TV; Emma simply nodded and picked up the bowl, leaning back into the couch. When she had finished eating she placed the bowl back on the table and then fell back against the back of the couch again. Clay had settled on a rerun of an old episode of Suits and while Emma usually found the show entertaining she could barely keep her eyes opened.

Looking over at the girl next to him, Clay found her almost asleep while still sitting up. Grabbing one of the blankets he had previously folded, he shook it out and wrapped it around her.

"Come here Birdie," he told the almost sleeping woman and pulled her gently against him.

Emma moved along and after a few adjustments they ended up with Clay half lying on his side, with Emma pressed up against him, her head on his chest, her right arm around his waist and his left hand was once again playing gently with her hair.

A couple of minutes later he felt her body go slack against him and looking down he could see that she was sound asleep. Feeling his own tiredness make itself know again, Clay grabbed the TV remote again and turned the TV off. He then let his head rest against the armrest and joined Emma in the land of dreams.

* * *

Arriving home after a 10h long flight and a mission that he would gladly never think about again, Jason was surprised to find that his usual spot on the driveway was occupied by a very familiar Chevy Nova. Sure, he had asked the kid to stop by on his way home from the base but that was at least 10 hours ago. Even if Clay hadn't left the base immediately after their conversation, he shouldn't still be here now.

Jason parked his truck on the street and picked up his bag from the rear before heading towards his home. As he inserted the key into the lock he found that the door unlocked and when he opened the door and entered he froze in his track because there, on his couch, was his rookie all snuggled up with his daughter.

Whisky. Tango. Foxtrot?!


End file.
